


A Mark Of Faith

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-01-12 07:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18441797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: Soulmate AU.  The reader used to work for Negan, to do his bidding whatever that might be, but all of that changed when he ordered her to kill.  Now, she lives within the Sanctuary’s walls, working for points, with nowhere else to go.  When she finds out that a prisoner is being tortured in the basement cells, she knows that she can’t just stand by anymore, even if the captive is a stubborn son of a bitch that refuses to trust her.  But destiny might have bigger plans for them both…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was an anonymous request that I received on Tumblr back in January - I started working on it back then intending to push out a one-shot and move on to the next, but then this AU exploded into my mind and I couldn’t let it go. This is a little different from anything I’ve done before, but the only thing you really need to know is that, in this world, the first time your soulmate touches you they leave their mark. I hope that makes sense. So thank you for letting me hi-jack your idea, Anon, and thank you for your patience. I really hope you enjoy this!
> 
> ‘Can you do One-shot where the reader is a former Savior and tries her hardest to get Daryl to trust her at the Sanctuary. He doesn’t until she saves his ass from getting killed by another Savior?’

The walls were closing in.  Despite the high ceilings, the bleak, grey concrete that formed the factory you called home felt like it might collapse in on you at any moment, squeezing the air from your lungs until you were choking, gasping, and the billowing steam didn’t help.  It hung damp in the air so that every breath was almost like drowning, and what you wouldn’t give to step outside just for a minute or two, to venture out beyond the fences, along the winding roads, into the forest and away.

That had been your life once.  A Savior.  You’d been proud of the title, felt strong as you piled into the back of one of the countless trucks used for supply runs, surrounded by others like you: warriors.  You knew how to fight, how to protect yourself.  You’d kept yourself in one piece even when others around you fell victim to the walkers’ snapping jaws, and Negan had recognised your potential and nurtured it until you were the perfect soldier.  And yes, you were following orders.  You didn’t really have a choice in where you were going and what you were doing, but it felt like you did with the thrum of the engine driving you onward and the sensation of freedom as you rumbled along.

You’d landed on your feet at the Sanctuary, you’d been sure of it.  You had cosy digs, enough points to live comfortably, the opportunity to kick some walker ass on supply runs, and even throw some intimidating looks at the leaders of the other communities that Negan had brought under his control when they weren’t playing ball - it gave you a thrill, though you’d always deny it.  But then things had changed.  The rules had changed and the boss’ new world order had become darker, more twisted.  As he increased his demands on those he’d brought under the Sanctuary’s wing, they began to question him and the atmosphere had become tense with rebellion.  And that was when the order came to kill.  Sparingly, of course - people are a resource, after all.  Killing should be a last resort but, where necessary, the target should be one that would make an impact and drive the message home.  

On the day that you’d happened to be there, the first time on one of your runs that a death had been deemed essential, it had been a boy.  He must only have been a teenager, and a young one at that.  But he was the nephew of the man in charge and it would ensure his ongoing cooperation.  That was the line anyway, but suddenly it all seemed so pointless, so meaningless.  You didn’t feel powerful anymore.  You felt small and sick, and, for endless nights after, you’d picture the boy’s wide eyes as he stood before Simon and awaited his fate.  

You couldn’t do it anymore after that.  You’d tried.  You’d tried for weeks, but each time you’d been assigned to go out on a collection, you’d find your chest constricting with panic, your skin clammy as you trembled, fighting to pull yourself together, afraid of seeing more death, afraid of being forced to bring it about by your own hand, and, when that panic began to escalate into full blown attacks each and every morning, you knew you had to step away.

‘Are you fucking kidding me, doll?’ Negan had growled when you’d made your request.  ‘Here was me thinking you were a damn badass, and actually you ain’t got a pair of lady nuts on you anywhere, have you?’

‘I won’t do it,’ you’d told him, fixing him with a determined glare.  ‘It was different before.  I didn’t mind throwing my weight around if it got things done, boss, but I’m not going to kill to assert your authority.  Especially not children.’

‘And how exactly do you propose I handle your resignation?’  His eyes were flashing with anger, but you refused to flinch.  You were in the right here, you just knew it, and you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing the fear that was rising up in your throat.  ‘You gonna walk away, huh?  You gonna go out into the big bad world and try to make it on your own?’

You’d wanted to.  With the way things were going, there was nothing you’d wanted more than to walk away without a backwards glance and get as far from the Sanctuary and from Negan as you possibly could, but you weren’t stupid.  You were alone, and every weapon you owned belonged, technically, to him.  You wouldn’t last five minutes out on the road without some way of defending yourself, and you knew he knew that.  ‘I don’t want to leave my friends.  There are people here that I care about.’

‘Well, I’m not about to give you a free fucking ride, doll.  If you aren’t a Savior, that means you’ll have to get your hands dirty and work for a fucking living.’

‘I don’t have a problem with that.’

He was measuring you up, you could tell, trying to work out just how serious you were, and he must have seen the determined set to your jaw and the way your hands had balled into fists at your sides, because all of a sudden he’d dropped the aggressive tone and spread his own hands wide.  ‘Shit, sweetheart, I don’t even know where the fuck this is coming from.  You’re one of the best I’ve got.’  He’d shrugged.  ‘What can I do to change your mind?’

You’d taken a step closer then, drawing on all of the strength you had so you could cock your head to one side and deliver the truth in a crushing blow.  ‘Not a damn thing.  You think you’re the big man around here, Negan, but big men don’t have to have little boys killed to get their own way.  You’re a sick, power-hungry tyrant and one day somebody’s gonna knock you off that damn pedestal.  It won’t be me, but I sure as hell wanna be there to watch, because it’s gonna be quite a show.’

Your honesty had had him reeling and it had taken several long seconds before he composed himself, schooling his disbelieving features into an expression of nonchalance.  ‘Shit, somebody sure woke up on the wrong side of the bed.  If that’s the way you want it, fine.  Clear out your room.  Laura’ll find you a spare bunk in one of the worker’s dorms.  And I think there’s a vacancy in the laundry room.  Might scrub away some of that attitude while you’re at it, huh?’

You hadn’t bothered to offer a response, spinning on your heel and marching away.  

Now, as you reached for another dirty shirt from the pile and submerged it into the bucket of water in front of you, you were still sure that you’d made the right choice, even as the monotony of your daily routine made you want to scream.  There was no death down on the lower levels where the chores were carried out, no violence.  Just the chatter of the other workers as they went about their business, the splash of fresh water being emptied into the main tank that sat over a low fire, heating through, and the rustling of fabric against wooden washboards as the stains were scrubbed away.  It was mind-numbing, strenuous work, but at least it kept the nightmares at bay when you crawled into your bed at night, and you worked side-by-side with your best friend.

Jodie was grinning at you now as she dropped to her knees beside you and retrieved a sweat-stained tank top from the pile.  ‘You looked a million miles away just then.  You okay?’

‘Yeah.’  You forced a smile in return, before admitting, ‘Feeling a little claustrophobic, that’s all.  This place is driving me crazy.’

‘You and me both, darlin’.’  She set to work, blistered fingers rasping the cotton over the wooden slats.  ‘It’s a beautiful day outside, so I’m told.  We should have lunch out on the steps.  Might make you feel better.’

‘That’d be nice.’  

‘Good.  Benny said he might join us, too, if he gets back in time.  He’s headed down south today for a collection, but they left before dawn.’

Benny was Jody’s partner.  More than that, he was her soulmate.  It had taken them both by surprise when his convoy had come across a handful of survivors trying to outrun a herd.  He’d gone to their aid, along with a few others, and it had been as he was resting a hand on the small of Jodie’s back to help her up into the truck that she’d felt the searing pain that came with the mark that now marred her skin:  Benny’s handprint, like dark ink, each whorl of his fingerprints visible, just above the waistband of her jeans.  And when he’d helped her down again, safe inside the Sanctuary’s fences, she’d tripped and reached out a hand to steady herself, burning her print onto his chest, through his shirt and his t-shirt, though the clothes showed no sign of what had appeared beneath.  It was a crazy world, but they’d found each other nonetheless.  Honestly, it made you a little jealous.  To have someone that was just yours, no matter what; your destiny; the person who gave your life meaning… If you had someone like that, you wouldn’t still be stuck here, scraping by and wishing you were anyplace else.

‘Did he say where he was headed?’  

She shook her head.  ‘Nah, just that they were going to send a message, whatever that means.’

You grimaced at the ominous nature of the words, but covered it quickly with a cough, moving the subject on to safer ground.  ‘So, did you hear that Amber and Mark were seen hooking up again the other night?  I swear, that girl is playing a dangerous game.  If Negan finds out-’

‘It might teach him a lesson,’ Jodie cut in with a roll of her eyes.  ‘Going after another man’s wife like he did, offering her the world so she’ll jump into his bed, sparing her husband’s life if she agrees to become one of his harem.’

‘I don’t know how she does it.’

‘She’s not the only one either.  You know Sherry only married him so he wouldn’t bash Dwight’s skull in with that bat of his.  So, he burned half his face off instead.  I suppose it’s kinda mercy, but only barely.’

‘I hate this place.’  You sighed, leaning back and running a sudsy hand through your hair, casting the shirt you’d been working on aside and reaching for another.  This one was stained with blood, and you realised that it was one of many that had been spattered with reddish-brown patches that refused to shift, no matter how long you scrubbed at them.  ‘Have I missed something?  Why are these clothes so bloody?  Did somebody get hurt?’

‘Speak of the devil.’  Jodie held up the slip that had come in with the dirty laundry, finger hovering over the name.  ‘Looks like their Dwight’s.  Reckon it’s something to do with the prisoner they’re keeping locked up in the cells?’

You hummed noncommittally, content in blissful ignorance until her words sunk in.  ‘Wait, what?  What prisoner?’

‘Benny said it’s some guy from a new community that was giving them trouble.  They’re holding him hostage until their leader learns to play ball.  He don’t like it, but orders are orders right.  Maybe he tried to get out and Dwight had to shut him down.’

‘Or maybe Negan gets his kicks from causing other people pain, and Dwight’s just blindly following orders ‘cause he’s scared of losing his other eyelid.’

‘Could be.’  Jodie shuddered.  ‘I don’t like to think about it.  I know you probably think that makes me an awful person, but… We all gotta get by somehow.’

‘I don’t think you’re awful,’ you reassured her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze.  ‘But I’m not so sure I can just let this one go.’

‘Be careful, Y/N.’

‘Always.’

 

* * *

 

‘Hey, Dwight!’  You’d foregone your lunch break out in the sun to seek out the long-haired Savior, finally finding him lurking in the marketplace, a loaf of crusty bread tucked under his arm.  ‘You got a minute?’

You couldn’t help but notice the way the sinewy muscles in his biceps tensed as you approached.  You knew Negan had told those you’d worked closely with that they weren’t to associate with you anymore, that you were dead to them and in no way allowed to be let in on any information that you might be able to use against him.  Still, it hurt a little that he was now glaring at you through narrowed eyes.  ‘What do you want, Y/N?’

‘I just wanted to catch up,’ you lied, falling into step beside him as he continued on his way, pausing to check out a shiny red tomato on a fruit and veg stand that was overflowing with fresh produce.  ‘So, how’re things?’

‘Fine.’

‘And how is it out there on the road?’

‘That’s fine too.’

‘I heard you guys found a new community.  Rumour has it-’

‘You shouldn’t be listening to rumours, Y/N.’  He rounded on you, using the extra inches he had on you to loom over you, forcing you to take a step back.  ‘Why don’t you tell me why you’re really pestering me?’

‘I washed your shirts today,’ you told him, solemnly.  ‘They were… There was a lot of blood.  I couldn’t get it out.’

‘Chuck ‘em.  I’ll buy new ones.’

‘But…’  You tailed off as his frown deepened.  ‘Dwight, is Negan keeping someone in the cells?  Is he making you hurt them, because I can-’

‘What?’  He spat at you, his fingers wrapping around your arm, tight against the crook of your elbow, so he could drag you to one side and shove you up against the wall.  ‘What is it that you think you can do?  I’m doing my job, Y/N, that’s all.  I’m doing what I have to.  You’re out, remember.  You’d better keep your nose out or-’

‘Or what?  You gonna go tell on me?’

‘Don’t make me.’

‘Dwight!’

His shoulders slumped and for a moment you thought he might actually tell you something real, but instead shook his head.  ‘Look, I like you, Y/N, okay?  Always thought you were a good girl.  But you chose to step back and that means that there are things I can’t tell you.  You keep pushing and you’ll get hurt, so, please, just stay out of it, okay?  Just back off.’

 

* * *

 

Daryl let his head fall back against the wall behind him with a dull thud.  It hurt.  That was good.  Least he knew he could still feel something.  He was going through a period of numbness, the lack of sensation pervading every sense until he thought he might actually have faded into nonexistence.  But, honestly, it was better that way.  Because when the numbness ceased, and he knew it would, then the pain would come back.  It gnawed at his stomach, his hunger ferocious, his thirst even more so.  And it pulsed in the bullet wound below his shoulder, angry and agitated, demanding medical care that they would never see fit to give him.  His face felt swollen to the point of deformity, his eyes just slits in the middle of dark, puffy bruises but he rarely saw daylight anymore anyway.  His whole life was contained in a tiny, concrete cell, just him and his thoughts, and it was torture.

He hadn’t meant for it to go down like that in the clearing.  When he’d thrown himself at Negan, tackled him, swinging wildly, he’d expected somebody else to move with him, that Rick or Aaron or, dammit, anybody would join in the fight.  But they didn’t.  They were smarter than him.  Maybe they’d known what was coming.  He’d thought it would be him, that was the real truth.  If it didn’t work, he thought Negan would kill him, bash his head in just like he had Abraham, but what he’d done was so much worse.  He’d killed Glenn, and that made it Daryl’s fault that Glenn was dead, that Maggie’s kid would grow up without a father, and that guilt was worse than the darkness, than the neverending loop of tinny pop music that filtered into the cell, and the pounding of fists against his flesh.  It would follow him forever, he knew, eat away at him until there was nothing left and there was nothing he could do to make it right.

From behind the heavy metal door, he could hear the hushed exchange of voices, then the retreating footsteps that indicated the change of shift of the guard outside his cell.  He guessed that meant that night had come round again, though it was hard to keep track.  At least night meant the chance to sleep… Or it would if the damn music would just stop for five minutes.  As the song started up again, he drove the heels of his hands against his ears and prayed for silence.

When the last notes finally faded away, Daryl’s eyes flickered open, hands falling to his lap where he tugged on his fingers, a nervous habit that he’d had since he was a child.  As his ears adjusted to the quiet, he realised that he could hear voices again, and he strained to hear what was being said, not really knowing why.

‘So, I heard Amber was looking for you.’  It was a female voice, one that Daryl was sure that he’d never heard before, though it immediately brought him a sense of peace that he couldn’t explain.  It sounded kind, he thought.  That must be it.  But he couldn’t trust anybody in this place, he’d learnt that the hard way.

‘She is?’ the guard questioned, before coughing lightly as though embarrassed.  ‘I, er, I can’t really take off right now.  Guard duty and all.  Can you tell her-’

‘Oh, you’re really gonna leave her hanging?’  The women’s tone was teasing now, the hint of a smile in her words.  ‘You’re a braver man than me.’

‘What am I supposed to do?’

‘Well, I mean, I guess I could cover for you for an hour if you want.  It’s not like I haven’t done this before, right?’

Silence.  

‘Oh, c’mon, Mark.  You don’t trust me?  I used to work every day at your side.’

‘I know, Y/N, but-’

‘But Negan told you I’m the devil, right?  A traitor?  I just didn’t wanna kill anyone.  Is that so bad?  Doesn’t mean I can’t stand outside a door for an hour while you go get your rocks off, does it?’

More silence.  And then the jangle of keys and a soft grunt.  ‘Thanks, Y/N, I owe you.  Things with Amber are just… They’re-’

‘Complicated, I know.  It’s cool, take your time, okay?  I’ll be here.’

‘Thanks.  Seriously, thank you.’

The thud of boots retreating, echoing along the hall, and then the clink of a key slipping into the lock of his cell.  The hinges creaked as it swung open.

It was gloomy in the corridor, but then it always was, night and day.  There were no windows this far down in the factory and the air was stagnant.  Still, he could pick out the shadowy figure that hovered in the doorway, poised on the balls of her feet as she stared down at him.

‘Hey, are you okay?’

Daryl didn’t answer.  He wanted to.  His traitorous body was straining towards this newcomer, and he had no clue why, had never reacted like this to anybody before, but he wasn’t about to play his part in another one of Negan’s games.  

‘Are you hurt?  C’mon, I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?  Get up.  You gotta follow me and we’ve gotta go now.’

No.  He couldn’t.  Wouldn’t.  He could feel her exasperation coming off of her in waves, but he’d fallen for this trick before.  Sort of.  It had earned him a beating and he wasn’t sure that he’d survive another one.

‘I’m trying to help you!  You’re seriously not gonna talk to me?’

Nobody in here would want to help him.  Even if some of them weren’t as bad as he was, as Negan, they wouldn’t want to risk his wrath.  Nah, she was playing him.  It was a trick.  It had to be.

‘God, are you deaf or just stupid?  You wanna get out of here or not?’  Daryl bristled at the edge to her tone.  ‘I’m risking my ass to help you right now!  Negan killed your people, didn’t he?  He does that, I know he does.  And I can get you out of here so you can join up with whoever’s left and get your revenge, but we’ve got to move, so get your ass up, okay?  Please.  We don’t have much time!’

Did she know?  That was the question scrolling through Daryl’s mind as he continued to glower at her, lip caught between his bottom teeth as he gnawed on it, tasting the coppery tang of blood on his tongue.  Had she been there?  Was she one of his Saviors?  Is that why she’d brought it up, to hurt him more?  To goad him into a bad decision?  Well, he wasn’t that dumb, not anymore.  But, God, she was persistent.

‘Are you freakin’ kidding me?  You’re seriously just gonna sit there?  What are you doing?  Waiting to die?  There are people out there that need you, I’ll bet, but oh no!  It’s easier to just hide away in here, right?  That gonna be your excuse when Negan wipes your community out?  That you were too afraid?  Or maybe you’re just not strong enough!’

It was like there was a window into Daryl’s head and she was giving voice to his worst fears as she watched them play out in his mind, pressing every damn button he had, and before he knew it he was lunging at her, staggering to his feet so he could wrap his fingers around her neck and pin her against the wall.  Her breath was coming in choked gasps and her eyes were wide as she cried out in pain, but he wasn’t squeezing that tight, couldn’t be hurting her that badly, not yet.

Her own hand reached out, clutching at his wrist as she sought to push him away, and he got it then, because her touch burned like the end of a cigarette being held against his skin.  He relinquished his hold on her immediately, backing away as he held his arm up to inspect the damage, fully expecting to see the skin reddened and blistered.  Instead, it was black.  The shape of a handprint, her handprint, traced onto his wrist like a tattoo.  He couldn’t see the details in the shadows, just a smudgy black shape, but he knew without seeing that each and every pattern etched into her fingertips would be detailed there.  

When he dared to glance back at her, her own hands were probing tentatively at her throat and he could see the black mark now printed there, just as her gaze was raking over his.  

‘Shit.’  Her eyes were wide when they met his.  ‘Shit.  For real?’

Daryl couldn’t speak.  It was too much.  It was all too much.  He couldn’t deal with this, not now.

‘You’re my- my soulmate?’  Her voice was disbelieving and Daryl didn’t blame her.  What must she think of him?  Stinking of his own waste, bruised and bloodied, held captive by her boss and not doing a damn thing about it.  ‘I don’t even know your name.’

He could tell her.  He thought about it.  It wouldn’t do any harm from what he could tell, but he still couldn’t let himself trust her, no matter what other ideas fate might have.  It hadn’t done him any favours up till now.  So, instead, he turned his back, shuffling back into his cell, one hand still wrapped around his wrist where her mark would forever remain.

‘Please,’ he heard her whimper, but he groped blindly behind him for the handle of the door, tugging it until it closed with a resounding metallic clank.  He couldn’t do it.  He just couldn’t.  Not like this.  Not now.  He couldn’t trust anyone.


	2. Chapter 2

You stood and stared at the door that had just closed in your face. The skin of your throat still burned from the heat of the prisoner’s touch and just the memory of it made you gasp. It had been such a raw sensation, the pain so pure that it had bordered on pleasure, and you knew it had changed you forever. You’d seen the mark on his wrist, your fingers inked against the dusky tan, and you knew his own must be picked out against your throat, dark and vivid. Of course, your soulmark wouldn’t be the outline of a supportive hand, helping, guiding, or the meeting of palms as you laced your fingers together. No, yours would be a memory of him trying to choke the life out of you. As far as first impressions went, it was a lasting one in every sense.

The sound of footsteps broke through your state of shock and you quickly reached for the key, still protruding from the lock, and twisted it, securing your soulmate back inside. It frustrated you to have to do so, leaving you with a hollow feeling like you were letting him down, though he’d given you little choice. The metal was cool as you pressed yourself against it, lips millimetres from the crack where the door met the wall.

‘I’ll come back for you.’

‘Y/N?’ Mark’s voice forced you backward and you fumbled with the key in your hand, glancing up to see him rounding the corner towards you. ‘I couldn’t find her. Sherry said it was Amber’s night with him.’

'Oh.’ Dammit. You’d played a risky hand sending Mark looking for his ex-wife, but in all fairness there weren’t many nights when she wasn’t seeking him out. Except, of course, the one night a week when she was required in Negan’s bed. 'Guess she must’ve gotten her days mixed up.’ You shrugged. 'Sorry.’

His shoulders slumped and he ran a sweaty hand through his hair. 'Yeah. I guess I’ll catch her tomorrow.’

You sensed that he wanted to talk, and once upon a time you would’ve been happy to sit and listen, but you were still shaken, relying on the shadows to hide the new addition on your neck from his eyes. So instead you thrust the key towards him, backing away hastily when he took it from your hand.  'Guess you will. I’ll see you around, Mark.’

You stumbled away on shaky legs, heading straight for your room and wishing that you could find some privacy to deal with this monumental turn of events.  At first you’d enjoyed the camaraderie of the dorms, but tonight you just needed to be alone.  It had been a stupid move anyway, you knew that, going storming down to the cells intent on breaking out Negan’s captive.  You weren’t all that sure what had possessed you, except that there was something in your gut tugging you towards the lower levels, and a burning desire to hit your leader where it might actually hurt.  You hated him… God, how you hated him, and the thought that, by releasing the prisoner, you might be helping his enemies, those who sought to take him down, was enough to drive you onwards with your foolhardy plan.  He would have known it was you, especially after you’d cornered Dwight in the marketplace, but that small detail seemed insignificant in the face of possibly actually doing some good in the harsh world you were forced to live in.

And now…

The room that you shared with seven other women was cast in darkness when you slipped inside, their soft snores and steady breaths the only sound as you toed off your boots and stole towards the bathroom.  A half-empty box of matches lay on the shelf above the sink, and you groped for it in the gloom, striking one and lighting the cluster of tealights gathered around the taps.  Your face was immediately illuminated by a golden glow, and you cautiously raised your eyes to the mirror, your hand flying to your mouth as you swallowed down a choked cry.  Just as you’d thought, a dark handprint was inked over your windpipe, fingers curving up beneath your jaw and stretching down to graze your collarbone.  It was ugly and aggressive and, as you compared it to the mottled charcoal colour of Jodie’s, you wondered if maybe it would fade slightly over time.  It would raise so many questions, and you ran through your small wardrobe of clothing, wondering if you had anything that might allow you to hide it away, at least until you could figure out what to do next.  Because, honestly, in that moment, you were clueless.

Of course, you understood why the man didn’t trust you.  The man… Your soulmate…  God, you didn’t even know his name.  You’d seen the state he was in, smelt it too, and that memory caused your stomach to roll.  He’d been treated like an animal since he’d stepped through the Sanctuary’s gates and, of course, to him, you were one of them, one of those who beat him down day after long, lonely day.  You would have been the same had it been you locked inside that dark, dank cell.  Why had you ever thought that he’d trust you, just blindly following you out into the night?  And what the hell would you have done if he had?

Deep down inside, you knew the answer.  It had been written for you as soon as his mark was tattooed across your skin.  Because you’d never felt like you belonged at the Sanctuary, not really.  That was why you’d relished being a Savior, because when you were outside of the walls you could pretend that you were destined for something better, something less bleak than this concrete factory.  Your role had always somehow felt temporary, though you’d never have admitted it, and when you’d stepped down to become one of the many worker bees that buzzed about the lower floors, if anything it had only made you feel less out of place than you had before.  But now you knew why. Because your place was with him, that man locked away in the shadows.  It was at his side, wherever he went.  It was your destiny.  But even as that reality sunk in, you shuddered. Because he didn’t trust you.  Because he was more broken than you ever could’ve imagined.  And because you had no idea how to get through to him and get him out of there before one or other of you ended up dead.

 

* * *

 

 

Your fork scraped against your plate, causing Jodie to wrinkle her nose as you toyed with the eggs in front of you.  You’d barely slept, still reeling from the events of the night before, and the scarf that you’d found at the back of your drawer and wound around your neck was already sticking to you in the heat.  It would only grow worse when you got down to the laundry room, but you couldn’t remove it.  That in itself would raise some people’s suspicions.

‘You look like hell.’

You arched an eyebrow at your friend as she cocked her head, drumming her fingers against the table.  ‘Charming.’

‘I’m just saying.  Did you sleep at all?’

‘A little.  The new girl snores pretty bad,’ you lied.  Jodie roomed with Benny so didn’t keep much track of the comings and goings in the dorms, sequestered away in the private quarters that were reserved for Negan’s soldiers.

‘You could always put a pillow over her head.’

‘Jodie!’

‘What?  I didn’t mean to… y’know.  Just to muffle the noise.’  She took a mouthful of breakfast, chewing thoughtfully.  ‘Or you could put one over your head, I guess.  Either would work.’

‘It’s fine.’  You ran your fingers through your hair, scooping it out from beneath the fabric that clung to your skin and combing out the knots.  ‘I’ll adjust.’

‘Well, you better.’  Finished with her meal, Jodie pushed her plate away and climbed to her feet, pushing her hands up towards the ceiling to stretch her back.  ‘Because we’ve got a whole lot of busy work to do and we need you on form.  C’mon, let’s go.’

You levered yourself upright with great effort, turning to follow her, but coming up short when you found your path blocked.  Your eyes locked on smooth black leather, trailing upwards over the vee of a white cotton t-shirt until they came to rest on Negan’s face.

‘Well, well, well, don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart, but you look like shit.’

‘Thanks.’  You went to step around him, intent on keeping your head down and getting to work, but he blocked your way again, and you stilled with a sigh.  ‘Something I can do for you, boss?’

He lowered his head towards you, so close you could feel his breath against your ear as he growled.  ‘I hear you’ve been asking questions.’

‘I don’t know what you’re-‘

‘Don’t fucking lie to me.’

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, conscious of Jodie hovering in the background, shifting from foot to foot as she watched on with concern.  ‘I’m not.’

‘So, you didn’t try pumping Dwight for info on our houseguest in the market yesterday?’ His stern expression slipped into a smirk of amusement.  ‘I mean, hey, the boy probably enjoyed it.  S’been a while since a woman wanted to pump him for pretty much anything, but the point is that you’re sticking your nose in where it doesn’t fucking belong.’

‘I was just making conversation with an old friend, Negan.’

‘Really?’  You nodded, and his smirk grew.  ‘Well, that’s not how he tells it.’

‘Maybe because you poisoned him against me, just like you did everyone I used to work with.’

That was a mistake.  He visibly bristled and then you were forced backwards until your thighs hit the edge of the table.  ‘Listen up, doll, and you listen good.  You’ve already proven that you’re not cut out to play with the big boys.  You made your choice.  Keep your nose outta my fucking business or I swear you and Lucille will be getting to know each other a whole lot better.  Oh yes, you will.  Now get the fuck outta my sight.’

You pushed past him before you could say anything else that might worsen his temper, cursing Dwight’s inability to keep his mouth shut.  If Mark decided to tell tales too you’d really be for it.  But he wouldn’t, you knew.  He’d left his post to seek out his ex-wife, Negan’s wife, for a few stolen moments of illicit fun.  His ass would be just as much at risk as yours, and there was no way he was that stupid.

‘What was all that about?’ Jodie hissed as you marched out of the canteen with her hot on your heels.  ‘Y/N, what the hell’s going on?’

‘Nothing.’

‘What aren’t you telling me?’

‘Trust me, you don’t wanna know.’

‘Is it about the prisoner?’

‘Please.’  Your tone was sharp, abrupt, and you saw her frown deepen.  ‘Just let it go, Jodes, okay?  I need you to let it go.’

 

* * *

You passed the morning in silence.  The steam glued your clothes to your body, and your damp fingers picked at the knot of your scarf, eager to undo it and let your skin breathe but you daren’t.  You could feel Jodie’s eyes watching you, still convinced that you were hiding something after your run-in with Negan, and, of course, she was right.  But you couldn’t tell her.  Not yet.  You weren’t even sure why you were so set on keeping your newfound bond to yourself but it seemed vital in that moment that you did.  Even from her, your best friend, and the only person you knew in this life that understood the connection that a soulmark represented.  It was a rare thing, and you’d found it pretty impossible to wrap your head around yourself when she’d first shown you Benny’s handprint stamped over her back, but now you got it completely.  But how could you tell her when you didn’t even know his name, when his hatred for you and the place you had no choice but to call home was so obvious from his first touch.  

When lunchtime rolled around, you made a hasty dash for the door, head down, intent only on getting away from the heat and her watchful stare, and you were grateful when she didn’t follow.  You knew she must be hurting - you didn’t keep secrets, not from each other - but you kept moving, avoiding the canteen and the usual places you might choose to sit and eat together and instead strode along the maze of corridors with no real destination in mind.  When you reached the main hall, by far the largest room in the building, you found yourself stepping inside, unsure why but going with the instinct, figuring that you could climb up to the raised catwalk that spanned its length and sit with your back to the concrete wall, letting it cool your feverish skin, maybe even remove the damn scarf for a minute or two.  It seemed deserted as you headed for the metal stairs, but a loud cough from behind you had you spinning around.

‘Oh, shit, sorry.  Didn’t see you there.’  He was obviously a Savior, going by the rifle clutched in his hands, but you didn’t recognise him, figuring he must be new.  He was tall and rangy, with a mess of ginger hair falling into his eyes, and looked a little scared as your eyes fell to the other presence that you hadn’t registered straight away.  Except that you had.  It was what had called you to this room.  The prisoner was hunched over, mopping back and forth over the floor, his head ducked, dark waves hiding his face.  His tracksuit was stained with blood and who even knew what else, and his feet were bare.  You swallowed hard, fighting the need to go to him, to hold him, this stranger that somehow now meant the world to you, instead looking back to the soldier who was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.  ‘You new around here?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’  He shot you a tight smile.  ‘Name’s Patrick.  Paddy.  Just got here a couple of weeks ago.’

‘Wow.’  You feigned impressed as you ran your eyes over his weapon, letting your lips quirk upwards as you rested a hand on your hip.  ‘And you’re one of Negan’s guys already, huh?  That’s quite something.’

‘I’m quick,’ he told you proudly.  ‘Good to have on board for supply runs.  Guess the boss saw my potential.’

‘Yeah, he does that.’  Daryl had frozen in place as you talked, fingers tightening around the shaft of the mop until his knuckles turned white.  You couldn’t see his mark, but you could almost feel it, hidden beneath the fabric of his sweatshirt.  You decided to take a chance.  ‘I’m Y/N.  I used to be where you are right now.’

‘Oh yeah?’  Paddy raised his eyebrows and the fear that you’d sensed before seemed to diminish, giving way to a slight cocky air that made you want to roll your eyes.  ‘What happened?  You fuck up?’

‘Nah.  Just taking some time out.  Girl needs a little me-time every now and then, right?’

‘Right, I get that.’  He nodded in understanding.

‘You got a girlfriend?’

‘Nope, three sisters.’

‘Gotcha.’  You shared a laugh, though yours sounded hollow even to your own ears, and you couldn’t help but notice that his fidgeting was growing more and more agitated by the second.  ‘Hey, you okay, man?’

You could see him debating his next words in his head, before his cheeks flushed a deep red and he took a step towards you, speaking in a hushed voice.  ‘I really need to pee.  I’ve still got another hour left on shift but, I swear, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to hold it that long.’

Bingo.  ‘Dude, been there.  If you want I can fill in for you while you go… y’know?’

His eyes widened and he nodded enthusiastically, pausing as his mind caught up with his desperation.  ‘Wait, will Negan be okay with that?’

‘Course.’  You were grinning now, and it was genuine this time as he handed over his gun and began backing towards the door.  ‘We’re all on the same team, right?’

‘Right.  Thank you!’  He’d disappeared from view, boots thudding along the hall as he sped away, throwing over his shoulder, ‘I’ll only be a minute!’

 

* * *

 

Daryl’s eyes darkened as he listened to the girl from the night before converse with the young guard.  It only confirmed everything he’d suspected, that she was one of them: a Savior.  He’d been right not to trust her, no matter what the mark on his skin might say.  Destiny must’ve been having a laugh at his expense when it decided that this bitch was his soulmate.  But then he was no stranger to life’s cruel tricks now, was he?  After all, he was still here, being treated like a damn dog, and Glenn was… Glenn was…

He tore his gaze away from the ground, slick with water from the bucket at his side, as she approached, eyeing her warily.  She held a gun in her hands and there was a thin scarf wrapped around her throat where he’d lost control of his temper.  His wrist tingled at the memory, and he fought to ignore the sensation, even as she cleared her throat and began to speak.

‘Hey.’

Just keep mopping, he told himself.  Don’t listen.

‘Hey, I’m sorry, okay?  About last night.  I was just trying to get a reaction so that you’d come with me.  I didn’t mean to make you mad.  I didn’t mean for…’  She tailed off, obviously as disturbed by this connection as he was.  He grunted.  It was all he could do.  He couldn’t let himself fall for her bullshit.  Except, as his eyes locked on hers, he found his mouth opening and words spilling out.

‘Yer one of them then?  Heard whatcha told the boy.’

For a moment she looked confused, brow furrowing in a way that might’ve been cute if he wasn’t watching for any sign that she was trying to fool him.  ‘What?  Oh, no, I was just… I wanted him to leave so we could talk.’

‘So, y’ain’t a Savior?’

‘I was.’  He nodded slowly, eyes narrowing as she chewed on her bottom lip, before he realised he was doing the same.  ‘Look, when I first came here, it wasn’t like this.  I mean, Negan was still an ass, sure, but it was smaller.  We had a couple of communities that we worked with but they just… They kinda went along with what he wanted.  We had more people than they did and they were scared of us.  It was easy.’

‘Yeah?  It feel good knowin’ people were afraid of ya?’

‘Kinda,’ she admitted, and he smirked.  ‘Not that… I mean, I don’t like hurting people or scaring them.  But I’d spent so long out there being afraid that it felt good to be on the other side of it for a change, I guess.  For a while.’

He supposed he could kind of understand that, in a twisted kind of way.  If you got hurt enough, eventually you wanted to start hitting back, no matter who got in the way.  He’d been there.  He hated that he could feel himself softening towards her and he found himself racking his brains, forcing himself back to that night in the clearing.  Had she been there?  Had she watched as his friends died?

‘Anyway,’ she went on, oblivious to his inner struggle.  ‘Things changed.  People started resisting and Negan ordered us to get a little more forceful, use violence where it was needed.  And then he ordered us to kill.’

‘Yeah, I’ve seen that.’

‘Me too.  My first time out after the rule changes came in, I watched a kid get shot in the back of the head.  And that was it for me.  I quit.’

‘Ya quit?’  He couldn’t quite believe that, but her face was sincere.

‘Yep.  Told Negan I wouldn’t be a part of that, not for him, not for anyone.’

‘But ya still stayed.’  Daryl’s tone was dripping with accusation and he saw her shudder at the chill in his voice.  ‘Ya still stay here even though ya know what he’s done, what he’s capable of.’

Her shoulders slumped and the gun in her hands swung down to hang at her side as beseeching eyes met his.  ‘I don’t have anywhere else to go.’

He almost felt sorry for her.  Almost.  Except wasn’t that exactly what she wanted?  Wasn’t that what this was about?  Trying to disarm him?  Trying to break him down?  Another one of Negan’s little games and he wasn’t going to fall for it.  He couldn’t.  Even as he rallied against the feelings that she was awakening inside of him - pity and concern and an overwhelming desire to take her in his arms and just hold her - he watched as her hand drifted up to her throat, slipping beneath her scarf and tracing along his fingers, her touch light, almost as if she was unaware of what she was doing.  His own fingers twitched as something brushed against them, and he almost shook his hand to rid himself of the sensation before he realised that it was her, stroking the soulmark, sending electricity shooting up his arm.

No.  No, this wasn’t happening.  He couldn’t have a damn soulmate, not in this world.  He was trying so hard to be strong, to keep it together so that he could at least try to make all of this right, to get vengeance for the people he’d lost, and she was getting in the way of that, this girl with the intoxicating scent and the touch that melted through the iron bars he’d thrown up to shut out the pain.

‘Stop.’  He spat the word, and she physically recoiled.  He didn’t even realise that he was advancing on her until he was up in her face, looming over her and that smell, shampoo and detergent and something fresh and floral, was wrapping itself around him.  ‘Just stop, would ya?  I don’ know whatcha think this is, but I ain’t playin’ yer little game.’

‘Game?’  She sounded incredulous.  ‘What game?  I already told you, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen!  All I wanted was to help you!’

‘Nah, ya wanted t’ mess with my head.  Want me to forget what I got out there so I can stay here ‘n’ be Negan?  That it?’

‘No!  C’mon, you have to feel this!  I didn’t make this happen, okay?’

‘Don’ matter what I feel!  Don’ matter what you feel!  Yer one of them, ya said it yerself!  Ya choose to stay here knowin’ what he is, what he does.  So, it don’ matter if I got yer damn handprint on my arm, ya hear me?  Yer just as bad as the rest of ‘em, ‘n’ when I get outta here, I’mma burn this place to the ground!’

He waited for her to react, to fight back, to hit him or point that damn gun in his face, to do something, but instead she just stood there, trembling.  A flicker of guilt nagged at his mind but he pushed it away.  He couldn’t let it in.  It was taking everything he had to keep this girl out but he had no choice but to keep fighting.  Letting her in would mean letting Negan in and he couldn’t do that.

She was still frozen in place when the guard returned, wiping wet hands on the legs of his trousers and casting an anxious glance from one to the other, their close proximity throwing him off.  ‘What’s going on in here?’

‘Nothing.’  Her voice shook, and she cleared her throat, taking a step back, then another, regaining her composure the more distance that she put between them.  ‘Nothing at all.  Here.’  She shoved the gun back into his hands, dropping her gaze to the ground as she rushed from the room, and Daryl went back to mopping, wishing that he couldn’t feel her pain in his own heart as if she’d taken that gun and put a bullet in his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

You couldn’t get the prisoner’s face out of your mind.  In your head it was red with rage, veins pulsating, mouth twisted in a menacing sneer as he shut down your every attempt to help him, to build a bridge, and you couldn’t blame him.  After what he’d been through, what he was still going through, of course he would hate you.  But it was still just so frustrating.  If he’d only listen, if he’d only give you a chance, then you’d find a way to get him out of there.  You didn’t know how yet, but you would.

Because the truth was you’d do anything for him, and that’s what you couldn’t understand.  Didn’t he feel it too?  That connection that had forged as his handprint had seared your skin?  Didn’t he know that you could no more hurt him than you could yourself?  Didn’t he feel the same?  The thought that maybe he didn’t was more than you could stand.  Wasn’t the soulmate bond supposed to go both ways?  After all, he carried your mark too.  Or was he just so broken that he was incapable of feeling its effects?  All you had were questions and they were getting you nowhere.

You worked the afternoon in a daze, ignoring Jodie’s questioning looks once again, but when you went to make your escape at the end of your shift, her hand wrapped around your wrist.

‘Y/N, what’s going on with you?  You’ve been lost in your head all day.’

‘Jodie, I told you you didn’t want to know, and I meant it.’

‘Yeah, well, I’m your best friend, so that’s not good enough.’

She was walking now, tugging you with her so that you had to hurry to keep up and, when you realised she was heading for the room she shared with Benny, you gave up resisting and let her drag you inside.  It was empty, save for the two of you, and you guessed Benny must still be out on a run.

‘Sit.’

She gestured at the bed, and you did as she instructed, though you were still determined not to talk.  ‘Jodes-‘

‘Nuh uh.’  She turned her back on you, crossing to a cupboard that stood against the far wall and pulling it open, stooping to retrieve a bottle from the bottom shelf.  ‘This is girl talk time, okay?  That means no secrets.  It also means wine.’

You watched as she cracked open the bottle, arching an eyebrow when she poured a generous glug into a glass and held it out to you.  ‘Really?’

‘Take it.’  You knew she wouldn’t back down, so you did as she said, screwing your nose up as the first tang of alcohol hit your tongue.

Finally, she dropped down beside you, cradling a glass of her own, and fixed you with a no-nonsense stare.  ‘Alright, spit it out.’

‘Jodie, it’s not-‘

‘Can I tell you something?’ she interrupted.  ‘When I first met Benny, I thought he was kind of a meathead.  I mean, sure he saved us, but he was yelling his head off and waving his gun around like a kid playing paintball.  He was so not the image I had of my perfect man, y’know?’

‘Right.’  You frowned, unsure where the conversation was headed.

‘But then he touched me and my whole world shifted on its axis.  It was like suddenly the sun wasn’t in the sky anymore, it was standing right in front of me, burning so bright it hurt my eyes, and I was terrified.’

You hadn’t been expecting that.  From your place on the outside, it had seemed to be so easy for the two of them from the start.  In fact, you couldn’t imagine Jodie without Benny in her life.  They just fit.  ‘You were?’

‘Of course.  Don’t get me wrong, I was happy.  I was so incredibly happy that I didn’t have to feel alone anymore, that I had someone that was mine, just mine.  But all of a sudden, my life wasn’t just my own.  I had somebody else to consider, to worry about, somebody that I just knew I would always put first, and that… It was huge.  And it took a long time for those jitters to melt away.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’

She shrugged.  ‘Because you’ve been sweating your ass off in that laundry room all day and not once has it occurred to you to ditch that stupid scarf.  Guess I kinda figured I already knew what you were hiding.’

Your jaw dropped, though you realised instantly that really you should’ve known she would figure it out.  She knew you too well, better than anyone, and she’d been there.  Of course she would’ve seen the signs.  Your hands were shaking as they reached for the fabric wrapped around your throat, and you carefully unwound it, squeezing your eyes shut at her small gasp.

‘Oh, Y/N.’

‘I’m so screwed, Jodie.’

‘Is it him?  The prisoner?’  She leaned towards you, spreading her hand over your neck, stretching her fingers along his until you pulled away.  As your frown deepened, she smirked.  ‘C’mon, it’s not exactly rocket science.  You went charging off after you found out they were holding someone in the cells, and you came back with your tail between your legs and your head in the clouds.  Then after what happened with Negan today…’

‘Yeah, it’s him,’ you confirmed.  ‘I was trying to help him, but he… He didn’t buy it, I guess, and he went for me.  I think- I thought he was going to kill me, but then… Then this happened.’

‘Have you talked to him about it?’

‘I’ve tried, today at lunch, but he wasn’t having it, Jodes.  He thinks I’m evil because I’m living here, because I work for Negan.  He thinks we’re all the same.’

She shook her head.  ‘But you’re not!  Did you tell him you stepped down as a Savior?  That you gave up this cosy little life up on the top floors because you didn’t want to kill anybody?’

‘Well, not in those exact words,’ you admitted, ‘But yeah, I told him.  He didn’t care.  He’s so angry, and I get it, I do, but I can’t get through to him.’  You sighed.  ‘I don’t even know his name.’

‘Daryl.’

Your eyes widened as your friend smiled at you.  ‘What?’

‘His name’s Daryl.  Benny was with the party that brought him in, remember.’

‘So, he knows what happened?  Has he said anything?’

Jodie shrugged.  ‘Only that it was a bloodbath.  He won’t really talk about it, so I know it must’ve been bad.  He hates it, you know he does, but we’re saving points so we can start a family and-‘

You reached out to take her hand, squeezing it tight.  ‘Hey, you don’t have to justify it to me, okay?  We’re all just doing what we have to to get by.  Kinda makes sense though, why the prisoner- Daryl, won’t trust me.  You should see him, Jodes.  It’s… It makes me sick. He’s filthy and he’s starving and he’s hurt, and I just want to help him, but I don’t know how when he won’t even give me a chance.  It’s like this stupid mark means nothing to him.  It’s… It’s like he doesn’t care.’

‘He does,’ she reassured you, and she took your glass from you, setting it down on the floor with her own so she could pull you into a hug that smelt of the detergent you’d been up to your elbows in all day.  ‘Of course, he does.  He’s just in a bad place, Y/N, literally. He’ll get there, he will.  You’ve just gotta keep trying.’

 

* * *

 

Lying in bed that night, Jodie’s words were spinning around your head.  You’d talked at length once you’d found the strength to pull yourself together again, and you’d drawn some comfort from knowing that she’d been as overwhelmed as you had when she’d been in your shoes.  You can’t give up, she’d told you.  And you knew she was right, that you couldn’t give up, would only end up regretting it and cursing yourself for the rest of your life if you backed off now, and, when sleep refused to whisk you away to oblivion, you slid from your bed and tugged on your boots.  You were going to make him listen to you, whether he wanted to or not.  You were going to get him out of there and then he’d have to trust you.  You just needed to prove yourself to him.

The corridors were dark as you stole along them, glad that you knew them well enough to navigate them in the black.  In fact the silence that cloaked the factory as it slept was almost peaceful, and the nerves that were churning in your stomach settled a little as you descended through the building.

That was, until you neared the cells.  Then the silence was broken, and it took you far too long to work out exactly what it was that you could hear: meaty thuds; the smack of flesh on flesh; pained groans and choked breaths.

Instinctively, you dropped to one knee, fingers digging around the edge of your boot for the knife that you kept tucked away there.  You shouldn’t carry a weapon, not really, now that you’d relinquished your position, but you’d been unable to let it go, needing to keep it close, just in case.  Now, you were glad you had.

Rounding the corner, a pool of light was thrown against the concrete floor by a lone torch propped against the wall, and the heavy door of the cell was hanging open.  The noises grew louder as you crept forward, and you couldn’t help but cringe at the horror of it, violent and desperate.  When you finally reached the doorway, what you saw was even worse than you might have imagined.  Daryl was curled into a ball on the floor, limbs tucked in as he tried to protect himself against the vicious onslaught of the guard.

A beast of a man was hovering over him, one you didn’t recognise, another new addition perhaps, and a brutal one at that.  He was unrelenting as he pounded Daryl with his fists, pausing now and then only to send a steel-toed boot shooting into his ribs. And suddenly, you could feel it, every blow, as if it were you that was the victim of the abuse, and you knew Daryl was gripping his mark, your mark, maybe even thinking about you as he fought to take his mind elsewhere.

You didn’t think.  You barely dared to breathe as you threw yourself forward, colliding with his attacker with jarring force, your arm already raised.  You brought your hand down, hard, throwing as much weight as you could behind it, and your blade slid into his skull, blood spurting over your fingers.  He didn’t even have time to react, and you were still wrapped around him when he pitched forward, collapsing into the shadows, unmoving.  For someone that had stepped away from a comfortable life because you didn’t want to kill, in that moment it had felt as natural as breathing to protect your own, and pure, heady adrenaline pulsed through your veins, until a small whimper brought you back to earth.

‘Daryl.’  You scrambled to the wounded prisoner’s side, hands hovering over him, afraid to touch any part of him in case you caused him any more pain, but then he was looking up, piercing blue eyes fixed on yours, and there was no hatred there anymore; just relief and gratitude and confusion. ‘Are you okay?  Can you move?’

He grunted and, taking that as a yes, you slid your arm around his waist, steadying him as he staggered to his feet.

‘C’mon, I’ve gotta get you out of here, okay?  I need you to come with me.’

He didn’t argue.  Or maybe he just didn’t have the strength to.  Either way, you averted your eyes from the body in the corner and let him lean on you as you guided him out of the door.

 

* * *

 

Daryl hurt.  Every inch of him ached as if he’d been bruised right down to the bone, and every step was agony.  He didn’t know where Y/N had come from, charging in like that, taking down that asshole like he wasn’t three times her size, but he owed her his life.  He wasn’t sure he was comfortable with that.  Still, now wasn’t the time.  He was out of the cell, and she was half-leading, half-carrying him as she sought to keep him from getting locked back in, and he didn’t have time to question why or how or what the hell was going to happen now.  He just had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and not leaning so much weight on her that she’d collapse beneath it.

They reached a junction in the corridor, and she helped him to prop himself against a wall, wincing when the concrete scraped against his spine.  Out here in the open, he was painfully aware of his stench, and he wondered how she could stand to be so close to him.  Her eyes were raking over his hunched figure, and he saw her suck in a deep, steadying breath.

‘You’re not gonna make it.’

‘What?’

‘You’re not gonna make it out of here, not like that.  Oh God.  What- What do I do?  What do we do now?’

She span away from him, wringing her hands together, the anxiety coming off of her in waves now that her adrenaline was ebbing away.   

‘Ya don’t have t’ help me.  Jus’ point me in the right direction, I’ll get outta here myself.’

How, he had no idea, but he hated the thought that he was putting her at risk.  Why did he hate it?  Goddammit, things were so messed up.

‘I’m not leaving you.’  His words had had her whirling back towards him and her eyes flashed with annoyance.  ‘You won’t make it without me, okay?  It’s fine.  It’s okay.  I have a plan.’

And then they were moving again, along dark corridors where he squinted through the gloom as he tried to pick out the walls and the floor and the space in front of him, and down a metal staircase that seemed to go on forever.  He was slowing, he knew, dragging his feet, and he could feel her struggling as he leant on her more heavily, though she gritted her teeth and tried to fight it, readjusting her grip and pressing onwards.

Eventually they reached a wide stretch of hall with several doors leading off of it and, though she passed by the first couple, when she reached the third she slowed, groping through in the shadows for the handle.  For a moment she wrestled with it, stiff through lack of use, but then it moved and the door creaked open.  

It took every last ounce of energy that he had within him to haul himself inside, and then he was hitting the ground as his knees gave way, and his chest was heaving, cracked ribs sending spasms of agony through him until he thought that he might pass out.  But she was still there, warm hands stroking over his spine as she sought to comfort him and, he was ashamed to say, if she’d sat so he could rest his head in her lap, he probably would’ve happily fallen asleep right there, because there was something so damn comforting about her touch that he was already forgetting why he’d been so dead set on keeping her at a distance.

But she didn’t.  She just knelt at his side, one hand resting on his arm as she waited for him to recover.

When he felt as if he could breathe again, that he’d be able to move without losing consciousness, he managed to ease himself upright, leaning himself against the wall, and she moved to sit next him, pulling her knees up to her chest.  

‘What is this place?’  Now that he could see through his daze of pain, he realised he was in a room not unlike the one he’d left, though it was bigger.  He could smell the mustiness that told of dust and damp, and the walls and floor were formed of concrete.

‘Storage,’ she told him, her voice cutting through the silence, though he knew she was staying quiet.  ‘Or the other vaults are anyway.  Just spare bunks, mattresses, that kinda thing.  Nobody really comes down here, and this one hasn’t been filled yet, so I figure it’s as good a place as any to lay low.’

‘Yer sure about that?’

He could sense her rolling her eyes.  ‘Yeah, I’m sure.  We’re about as far down as the building goes, and right at the back to boot.  This room and the one next door haven’t been used for as long as I’ve been here.’

Daryl wanted to ask her just how long that had been, how she’d ended up in a place like this, but it wasn’t the time, and, in truth, he was scared to know too much, to let her in. 

It didn’t matter anyway, because she was still talking.  ‘I can’t stay here with you.  If Negan knows I’m missing, he’ll know it was me that helped you, and then he’ll probably guess that you’re still somewhere in the building.’  

Daryl just nodded dumbly, frowning and then wishing he hadn’t when it pulled at a cut above his eye.

‘Alright then.  I guess I better get going.’  She was climbing to her feet and he didn’t want her to leave, needed her to stay because otherwise it would just be him and the darkness and the harsh truths in his own mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to explain.  ‘I’ll try and get down here on my lunch break, okay?  I’ll bring food, water, clean clothes.  You gonna be alright ‘til then?’

‘Mmhmm, gotta be.’  She forced a tight smile, mirroring his own, then turned towards the door, and he had to say something, anything, before she shut him away once again.  ‘Hey, why are ya doin’ this?  Ya could lose everythin’.  Why take the risk?’

She paused in the doorway, and he heard her scoff, though she didn’t look back.  ‘You know why.’

And then the door clicked shut, and he was alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaaat? This one’s over already?! Damn. I have loved my first longer attempt at a soulmate AU and I hope you all have too. It was a lot of fun to work with that dynamic and try to tie it in with Daryl’s trust issues, particularly at this point in time when he’s so vulnerable. Thank you to everybody that’s read, left kudos or commented. It means the world! I hope you like the ending…

You were headed back to work after your lunch break when Negan cornered you. You’d heard him coming, the heavy thud of his boots drawing closer, but you’d refused to look round, knowing him well enough to know that he was aiming to intimidate. Instead, you failed to acknowledge his presence at all until you felt thick fingers wrap around your arm and shove you against the wall.  His eyes were dark as he invaded your personal space and you could feel the threat of Lucille as she hung beside him, her barbs glinting in the light from the window.

‘Something I can help you with, boss?’ You swallowed your panic, arranging your face into an expression of nonchalance, maybe even boredom. Though your heart was racing in your chest, you knew it was vital to treat your leader with your usual level of disdain, else he’d know immediately that you were hiding something from him.

'I know it was you,’ he growled, and you let your eyes grow wide, tilting your head to one side in faux innocence.

‘What are you talking about? I don’t-’

'It’d be better for the both of us if you kept your mouth shut right now, doll,’ he cut you off, and you were more than happy to oblige. 'See, I’m missing a prisoner - one that you were just a little too fucking interested in just a few days ago - and I’ve got a dead guard that I’ve had to try to explain to his family, and I know you had something to do with it. Weird thing is, I’m also missing a stack of medical supplies. You know anything about that?’

You shook your head, looking past him at the concrete wall opposite until he pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing hard, forcing you to meet his gaze.

‘The only reason I’m not introducing you to my girl here right now is 'cause I’m gonna find proof and I’m gonna get everyone together and let them know that there’s a fucking thief living among us, a traitor to the new world fucking order that we’re trying to build.’ He lowered his face towards you and you grimaced when you felt his breath, hot against your cheek. 'And then I’m gonna burn the shit out of you while they watch. Oh, you’re gonna pay, sweetheart. Just you fucking wait.’

He span on his heel and left you standing there, though this time you didn’t hear a single footstep. Your pulse was pounding in your ears, drowning out all other sound, and you sucked in a deep breath as you fought to keep your hands from shaking.  It had been a risk taking the medical supplies, you’d known that.  You’d had to summon up a huge amount of courage before sneaking into the stores and hurriedly shoving what you needed into your backpack, listening intently for any sound of movement on the other side of the door. But the simple fact had been that Daryl had needed to be patched up and you didn’t have enough points to get the bandages, suture kit and pain meds any other way.  It was the knowledge that he was suffering that had spurred you on, leaving you with no choice but to face your fear.  He’d become your number one priority in the five days since you’d met, and that in itself was even scarier than anything that Negan might do to you.

Over the past few days that you’d had him hidden away in the vaults, you’d been sneaking down there with food and water, building his strength, as well as tending to his wounds. The first time you’d touched him, pressing your fingertips to the swelling around his eye, he’d flinched at the contact, and you’d known instinctively that it had nothing to do with the pain.  But you’d persevered, dabbing antiseptic over his cuts and stitching the worst of them shut, and eventually he’d relaxed, watching you work with an undisguised interest in his eyes.  You’d taken to sitting with him while he ate, talking quietly about this and that, inconsequential things like the fact that you hated the overpowering stench of detergent that clung to you day in and day out, and stories that went deeper, about your life before and the people you’d lost.

He offered nothing in return.  Not that it mattered.  You felt like you knew him despite knowing nothing but his name.  And you wanted him to know you, to trust you.  Occasionally, when working, you’d sense the ghost of fingertips over your throat, beneath your scarf, and you’d know that he was tracing the outline of the mark on his wrist, that it was his touch you could feel.  The thought would raise goosebumps over your skin and you’d be gripped with the desperate urge to go to him, but so far you’d managed to contain it, keeping it together until dinner had come and gone, and you could slip away without your absence being noticed.

But, if Negan was on to you, that was going to have to change.  You’d known he’d look to you first, of course.  He didn’t trust you and had made no secret of it, and you’d been stupid enough to ask questions, believing Dwight to be someone that you could still rely on.  That had been a mistake.  No, it was only a matter of time before Negan found the proof he needed, and you shuddered at his graphic description of just what he intended to do to you.  If you were going to get Daryl out of there, you had to do it soon, or you’d both pay the price.

Jodie was already hard at work when you finally made it back to your post, sinking to the ground beside her with a quiet huff.  She sensed your turmoil right away, and glanced anxiously at you as you toyed with your scarf, the knot suddenly suffocatingly tight. ‘Everything okay?’

‘No,’ you murmured, reaching for a dirty pair of jeans and going through the motions of wetting them and scrubbing them clean.  ‘Negan’s on to me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I did a stupid thing, Jodes.’

Her eyes narrowed.  ‘What?  Is it to do with…’  She tailed off, but her eyes flicked to your neck and the mark hidden from her view.

You nodded.

‘Benny said he’s missing.  I wanted to ask, but I thought… I didn’t want to-‘

‘It was me.  I got him out.’

‘How?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’  You sighed.  ‘He’s still in the building, but he can’t stay here.  Negan knows it was me and he’s just waiting till he has proof so he can iron my face in front of everyone.  I don’t wanna end up like Dwight.’

‘Shit, Y/N.’

‘I know.’

‘You’re leaving, aren’t you?’  At your look of surprise, she scoffed and shook her head. ‘Well, Daryl can’t stay, and there’s no way  you could cope being so far away from him. God, if Benny left without me, it’d be like somebody cut my heart out.’

You knew deep down that she was right, that you’d already made that decision, but acknowledging it felt like a big step.  Leaving the Sanctuary, going with your soulmate, would mean heading back out on the road with no clue where you’d end up.  Though the factory felt claustrophobic to you, unbearably so some days, it was also home, and Jodie felt like family.  ‘I’m scared.’

‘You don’t have to be.  That man you’ve got hidden away, there’s not a damn thing he won’t do for you.  You’ll keep each other safe.’

‘I’m not so sure about that.’

‘Trust me.  Destiny has a way of working these things out.’

 

* * *

 

Daryl was going stir crazy.  It had been bad enough existing in the cell, waiting for the torture to begin, that damn pop song on repeat making him want to claw his own brain out, but at least it had been inevitable.  Hiding away, deep in the belly of the beast, just waiting to be discovered… It was almost worse.  The silence was deafening, playing on his imagination, and the impenetrable gloom allowed his mind to paint pictures over the walls of what exactly Negan might be doing to the people he cared about while he was trapped and unable to help.  Had others died?  Had Negan beaten their skulls into the dirt like he had Glenn and Abe?  Or was Rick bending to his will, doing what he asked out of fear of what might happen if he didn’t?  The not knowing was infuriating and yet…

Could he go back there, to Alexandria, if Y/N was true to her word and got him out?  Could he risk bringing the wolves to the Safe Zone’s gates and, God, what would happen if he was discovered there?  But, if he didn’t, where the hell else could he go?  Was he supposed to just turn his back and never find out what happened to his friends, to the boy and Lil Asskicker?  Neither option appealed, but what surprised him the most was that, when he pictured each scenario, Y/N was at his side.  He couldn’t explain it.  She’d never told him she intended to go with him, just that she’d do whatever she could to get him out of there, and he wasn’t sure he even believed that.  But he couldn’t imagine making his escape without her.

The soulmate thing bothered him.  He’d had more than enough time to think about it since she’d stabbed his guard and smuggled him away, and, each time he allowed his mind to dwell on it, his stomach would knot and he’d find himself stroking his fingers over the outline of hers on his wrist, brow creased in a frown.  Everything about it was a contradiction: she was supposed to be his enemy, and yet he wanted to know her completely; she made him feel panicky and anxious and out of his depth, but her presence brought him a sense of calm and belonging unlike anything he’d ever felt before; he’d never even believed in soulmates and then, just as he was ready to lose faith in everything he’d thought he’d known, she’d come to him and turned it all upside down.  He’d never been in love, never really had a real relationship even before the dead had started walking, had certainly never imagined that he might find someone after… But there she was, sitting at his side as he ate each evening and just talking, telling him little details about her day and secrets about her life before that made him want to wrap her up in his arms so that she’d never get hurt again.  He shouldn’t trust her, but it was as if the core of his being wanted to, despite everything, and he had to fight to keep his guard up.  He still wasn’t sure enough to let her in.

When he heard her footsteps approach on the fourth night, his heart giving a small leap at the knowledge that he was going to get to see her, hear her laugh, smell that sweet detergent scent that she hated so much, he schooled his features into nonchalance and threw up his walls, though he faltered when the door opened and revealed her laden down with a heavy pack, as well as the standard plate of rations and bottle of water that he’d expected.  He was on his feet before he knew what he was doing, taking the bag from her shoulder and resting it against the wall as she set down his dinner and stretched out her joints.

‘Damn, that thing got heavier with each flight of stairs, I swear.’

‘Whatcha got in there?’

‘Supplies.’  She pulled the door shut behind her, flicking on the torch that she’d pulled from her pocket to give them some light, and then dropped to her knees so she could unclip the top of the backpack and rifle through the contents.  ‘I got you a change of clothes.  My friend, Jodie, she gave them to me.  They’re her… Her soulmate’s.  They should fit.’  She twisted round, offering up a patched pair of jeans and long-sleeved grey shirt.  ‘I figure you’ll look less conspicuous if you ditch the tracksuit.’

Daryl nodded slowly, taking the clean bundle of material and fondling it in his hands.  He’d forgotten what it felt like not to be filthy.  ‘Thanks.’

‘There are boots too,’ she went on, tossing a pair of worn leather lace-ups on to the ground in front of him before peering into the bowels of the bag.  ‘Water, food, ammo, - though I didn’t manage to get my hands on a gun so I guess we could probably leave that - some basic medical supplies…’  She tailed off, taking in Daryl’s confused expression.  ‘It’s time, Daryl.  You’re getting stronger, and Negan’s on to me.  We’ve got to get out of here.’

The knot in Daryl’s stomach tightened.  ‘Ya reckon we can do it?’

‘We can.  We’ll leave at dawn before the place wakes up.  It’ll only be the guards we have to contend with, and I know their shift pattern.’

‘Ya know ya don’t gotta come,’ he ventured, shuffling into the shadows where the beam of her torch wouldn’t touch him as he began to strip off his clothes.  He could feel her watching, despite not being able to see, and a part of him wanted her to see his scars, so she’d understand: why he was like he was, why he was pushing her away.  ‘Ya’ve done enough.  I can do it alone ‘n’ ya can go back to yer life.’

‘But… you are my life.’  Her eyes were wide when Daryl turned back to her, pulling the borrowed shirt down over his stomach as his breath caught in his throat.  Her tone was so sincere, the way she was looking at him so open and honest, and he wondered whether he’d ever meant that much to another person before.  ‘Besides,’ she went on, clearing her throat in a bid to ease the tension that had settled over them.  ‘Like I said, Negan knows it was me that got you out of that cell.  He’s on a witch hunt and I don’t fancy hanging around to be burned at the stake.’

‘Alright then.’  That was good enough for Daryl, the knowledge that she was fleeing as much for herself as for him, and finally, fully clothed, he settled himself back on the hard concrete floor and began to eat.  ‘Dawn it is.  Ya should get some rest.’

She didn’t argue, crawling over to curl up at his side, one hand resting on his knee.  He should shun the contact, he knew, brush her off, but the warmth radiating from that one spot was enough to quiet his fear and his uncertainty.  If this was the first and last night he got with her, he wanted to savour every moment.

 

* * *

 

You woke early, Daryl’s quiet snores a stark reminder of where you were, easing your disorientation as you pushed yourself up on your elbows.  You’d slept deeply and dreamlessly, and you were grateful after so many nights spent tossing and turning since you’d found out about the prisoner being kept in the cell, but now the reality of what was to come sat in your stomach like a lead weight.  Saying goodbye to Jodie the night before had been unbearably hard, and you’d cried so much that you knew it was only the lack of light in the vault that had stopped Daryl from noticing your puffy eyes.  Even after sleep they felt sore and grainy, your skin tight, and you had to choke back the urge to start sobbing again.  She had Benny, you told yourself, and he’d look out for her no matter what.  Just like Daryl would you, or so you hoped.  

Getting out of there wasn’t going to be as easy as you’d made out the night before, and you knew he wasn’t stupid enough to have believed you.  Yes, you knew the guard’s shifts, but you also knew they were designed to leave almost no gap in their patrols, meaning that you had to time your escape to the split second.  If you got out without being seen it would be a miracle, but the other option was unthinkable.  So, you decided, you wouldn’t think about it.  Live in the moment, deal with it as it comes, that’s what you’d done as a Savior, and it was a good tactic to adopt now.  Worrying wouldn’t get you anywhere.

When Daryl stirred, you climbed to your feet, rolling your shoulders to rid them of the stiffness that came from sleeping on the cold floor.  Behind you, you felt him rise too, and then his voice, deep and gravelly.

‘S’it time?’

‘I think so.’

You didn’t speak again after that, Daryl taking the pack and shrugging it over one shoulder while you led the way, out of the vault and through the maze of corridors, climbing the metal staircases on your tiptoes to make as little noise as possible.  Occasionally you’d have to throw yourself back against the wall, motioning for Daryl to do the same, as a lone figure passed by the end of the hallway, but for the most part getting out of the building was easy.  Too easy.  You should’ve known.

You’d jimmied the lock of one of the fire exits before sneaking down to the basement the previous evening, and you breathed a sigh of relief when it swung open easily, removing the folded piece of card and tucking it into your pocket.  The door opened out on to the yard where the Sanctuary’s collection of motorcycles, either stolen or found on the Saviors’ travels, were lined up against the fence, a decision made based on more information that Jodie had shared.

‘Y’know that vest Dwight’s been wearing?  The one with the angel wings?  He took that from your man,’ she’d told you as she searched through Benny’s clothes for an outfit that he wouldn’t miss.  ‘Stole his bike too.  Sure seems to want to be him considering how much he hates the guy.’

It seemed that she was right too, because Daryl pushed past you, eagerly heading for the nearest motorcycle and dumping the pack on the ground beside it.  

‘Jodie said you were a biker.  You reckon you can get one running?’

‘Yeah.’  He was already leaning over it, fiddling with something as you waited, keeping an eye on the route that you knew the guards would walk around the compound.  ‘Gimme a minute.’

He was still working when you heard a gasp from behind you.  You span on your heel, already drawing your knife from your pocket, your pulse quickening at the realisation that you’d been caught.  But the fight went out of you when you saw just who it was that had stumbled across your escape.  Fat Joey was staring at you in horror, wide-eyed, a sandwich hovering halfway to his mouth as he froze.  His other hand twitched at his side, instinct forcing him to go for his weapon, and you raised your blade in front of you, shaking your head.

‘Don’t, Joe.  Please.’

‘H-he said it was you.  Negan, he told me.  But I told him it couldn’t be.  Said you wouldn’t do a thing like that.  I… We’re friends, Y/N.’

‘We are,’ you assured him, inching closer, painfully aware of Daryl’s glare burning into your spine.  ‘We are friends, Joey.  Always have been, right?  But I gotta get out of here.’

‘With him?’

‘He’s a good person.’

‘That’s not what Negan said.’

‘Negan talks a whole lotta bullshit, Joe.’

His fingers flinched again, and you raised your other hand, though you made no move to put your knife away.  ‘Y/N-’

‘You shouldn’t be here, Joey.  You’re not on watch today, I checked.  I made sure it wouldn’t be you.  Just turn around, say you slept in.  Nobody has to know.  Just let us go, please.’

‘I get up early sometimes.  I like t-to eat my breakfast out here while it’s quiet.  You knew that.’

You did.  Back when you’d been on the inside, one of the team, you used to join him, watching the sunrise as you chewed on sandwiches made with fresh bacon from the Kingdom’s pigs.  But that had been a long time ago, and it hadn’t even occurred to you that he might still follow that same ritual.  You supposed that, even though the others hadn’t turned their back on Negan like you had, they still needed a little solitude to process the things they had to do, the things he expected of them.  ‘I’m sorry, okay?  I don’t want to hurt anybody.  I just want to leave.’

‘So go.  But you can’t take him.’

‘I have to.’

‘Y/N-’

‘Joe,’ you repeated, reaching up to pull the scarf from your neck, revealing your soulmark painted on your skin, dark and blatant in the dawn light.  ‘I have to.’

Sadness turned to confusion and then quickly to anger as he took in the handprint on your throat, eyes flicking to Daryl whose own mark was stark against his wrist with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  ‘You’ve gotta be kidding me.  So, it was you.  You killed David?’

‘David?’  It was your turn to be confused for a beat.  ‘The guard?  God, Joe, he was beating the shit out of him.  He was gonna kill him!  I couldn’t let him… I had to-’

‘Liar!’  It happened in slow motion.  Joey flung one hand out to the side, sending his breakfast flying across the yard, while the other reached for his sidearm, sliding it from its holster, the safety clicking off and kicking you into action.  You lunged, throwing your body across the small space that remained between you, your knife clenched tight in your fist, and then it was sliding into the soft flesh of his stomach, as easy as if it were butter, and a pained groan escaped the man who you used to call your friend.  

Tears streamed down your face as you pulled the blade free, stumbling backwards as he collapsed, his red cheek coming to rest in the dirt.  You fell to your knees as his side, raising your knife once again and plunging it into his skull, your shoulders shaking as you sobbed.  It hurt.  It hurt so bad to have to do this to him, someone you’d laughed with, fought beside, cared about, but you couldn’t let him become one of them.  And you couldn’t let him hurt the man you loved.  

You could have fallen apart right there, crumbled into pieces, but a strong arm was wrapping around your waist and hauling you to your feet, and you leaned heavily on Daryl as he stooped to retrieve Joey’s gun, slipping it into the waistband of his jeans.

‘C’mon, we gotta go.’

You nodded dumbly, unable to tear your eyes away from the body sprawled on the ground, the second person you’d killed since you’d been marked forever.  

‘Y/N, we gotta go, alright?  I ain’t leavin’ ya here.  Now, move!’

 

* * *

 

Daryl could’ve left her there.  The thought crossed his mind.  She’d got him out, the hard part was done.  He didn’t need her from that point.  He could’ve left her there, kneeling in the dirt beside her dead friend, and taken off, left all of the soulmate bullshit behind and moved the hell on.  But… he couldn’t.  Something inside of him was stopping him from climbing on to that bike and gunning it the hell out of there.  It might’ve been the fact that, if what she’d told him was true, she’d stepped down from her position as a Savior because she didn’t want to kill, and now she’d taken down two of her former comrades for him, to save him.  Or it might’ve been how broken she looked as she cried, and that he knew how that felt, to feel responsible for the loss of another life.  Or it might’ve been that the mark on his wrist was burning as if it was trying to tell him to go to her, that she needed him.  It really didn’t matter.  All he knew was that he couldn’t walk away from her now.

It was easy enough to manhandle her onto the back of the bike, and she wrapped her arms around his waist without being told, holding on as the engine rumbled to life beneath them.  And as soon as they were out of the gates and out on the open road, he kicked it into high gear and took off, speeding through the countryside with no aim, no destination, other than to ride until the both of them began to feel a little better.  The sun climbed high into the sky above them as they wound along the backroads, through shaded tunnels of trees and snaking across endless acres of farmland, and when the heat was burning the skin of his arms and her grip on him was growing looser as she grew tired, he finally pulled up to the verge and came to a stop.

She was shaky when she dismounted, and, as soon as he’d swung his leg over the seat so he could lean against the bike, propped on its kickstand, he reached for her, pulling her into his chest.  Her embrace soothed him, and, despite not knowing where he was going and what he was going to do next, he suddenly felt like he was already home.  When she pulled back to look up at him, he dragged his thumb beneath her eyes, wiping away the last traces of her tears, and she took a deep breath, steadying herself, as her gaze locked with his.

‘Thanks.’  It seemed so insignificant, nowhere near enough to convey just what she’d done for him, given up for him, but he had no clue what else to say to her.  ‘Ya saved my ass back there.  I owe ya.’

‘Had to prove you could trust me, right?’  She shrugged as if it had been nothing, as if it hadn’t nearly broken her to take another life.  ‘Did it work?’

‘Worked from the second ya left yer damn mark on my arm,’ he admitted.  ‘Just had t’ keep my guard up, just in case.  Negan, he’s-’

‘A sadistic son of a bitch that likes to play twisted little mind games,’ she interrupted.  ‘Yeah, I got that memo.  I get it.’

‘Right.’  Behind him, wildlife rustled through the undergrowth, but he ignored the potential of lunch, instead keeping his attention focused on the girl standing in front of him.  ‘Guess I’m just sayin’, this whole soulmate thing, I can feel it, y’know?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.  Ain’t sure what it is yet, but I can feel somethin’.’

‘Well, we’ll figure that bit out together.’  

‘Yeah, we will.’  When she stepped back, he stood tall, stretching his arms towards the sky and turning to stare off down the road, into the distance.  It seemed to stretch on forever as the forest gave way to rolling hills and he wondered where they’d end up if they climbed back on the bike and just kept on riding.  ‘Where though?  I mean, where’d we go from here?’

‘Wherever you want.’  She moved to stand beside him, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world to wrap his arm around her shoulders, all traces of doubt melting away when she leant into him.  ‘Back home to where you came from, or off to somewhere new.  I’ll follow you anywhere, Daryl.’

‘Well then.’  He paused, tipping his face down to brush his lips over the top of her head, breathing her in as he made his decision, wondering what it might be like to kiss her for real one of these days.  ‘Guess we better get movin’.  We got a long way to go.’


End file.
